


Instinct

by GenimStilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, fill for Teen Wolf Kink Meme, oh well, though it's not really kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:18:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenimStilinski/pseuds/GenimStilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, while recognizing the perks of being a werewolf, never exactly wanted to be one. Maybe it wasn't his choice, but he was sure as hell going to learn to work with it. </p>
<p>Just maybe not with Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> The full prompt can be found [here.](http://tnw-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/2665.html?thread=226153)

             _“What a beautiful beta you would make,” Deucalion drawled, running his fingers along Stiles’ tense facial muscles. The teen knew better than to snap at him now, with Kali’s claws placed so firmly to the sides of his neck, and the twins on either side at the ready to do whatever their Super-Alpha bid them. His rambling had been chased away by what little bit of self-preservation and ‘holy shit’ feelings had kicked in when he found himself staring into the slightly reflective lenses of Deucalion’s sunglasses._

_Tension lead to full body trembling, and Stiles almost whimpered when a single nod from their leader had Ethan and Aiden divesting him of his jacket, and tearing his shirt straight off his body. They moved to stand behind Deucalion, and Stiles couldn’t help but notice how cold Aiden looked, and the subtler appearance of sorrow in Ethan’s eyes. Movement took his eyes away, and a sharp pain struck his side._

_And darkness took him._

Stiles woke covered in sweat, tangled in his sheets, and gasping for breath. He didn’t attack his father, who was now standing a few feet from the bed, terrified, though collected, but it was a near thing. The only mercy in all of this was that it gave him an excuse to tell the Sheriff everything, from what he’d pieced together about the happenings leading to the Hale fire, to the night Scott was bitten, and finally up to two nights ago, when he found himself on his knees before a pack of angry wolves.

            He slipped out of bed and passed his father without a word. Stiles could feel his agitation screwing with his control, and being so close to the night of the full moon didn’t help. He had been wound up so tightly for so long before this, even without having to factor in his new ‘furry little problem’. Whatever, it’s not like anyone other than his dad had noticed the difference.

            And see, that right there? That was the worst part. Somewhere in his anxious and Adderall enhanced mind, he knew that everyone was too busy to watch out for the human who got himself into trouble on the regular. Things have been shit lately for EVERYONE. But once upon a time, he could still convince himself that Scott wouldn’t let him slip through the cracks.

            Stiles had reached the woods before he even knew where he was headed. Apparently his wolf instincts were occasionally more rational than his human mind, because every bit of new impulse in his body was telling him it was time for a run. Stripping his shirt and dropping it beside a tree, he took his first stride, and ended up in a full sprint in mere seconds. Bare feet hit cool soil in a lulling, even pattern, while the exertion of his body burned off the adrenaline his body had worked up in his nightmare.

            When he’d made it far enough to consciously decide he was good to go home and face his father, he made a wide arc around a large tree and followed his own scent out. Stiles figured it’d be a good impromptu training exercise. Maybe it had only been 48 hours, but his body took to the bite as if he were meant for it. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he already knew what to expect, or if it was more because his fragile human body decided not to fight the fact that he was already kind of a werewolf- an honorary one. He decided to ignore the possibility that it was because Deucalion was alpha, and he was strong, and so Stiles would be strong, too. He did, however, grab hold of the thought of alphas as he pushed the rest of that thought from his mind.

            With the full moon coming up, he couldn’t afford for the wolf that bit him to call him out against his will. He’d need a new alpha, and fast.

            Fast.

            Four legged running was faster, right? Stiles decided to give it a try.

And…no, that wasn’t happening again without some training. There must be some sort of half-shift trick to make your hips align correctly for it, because Stiles wasn’t getting it. Maybe there were a few things that didn’t come so easy?

            Derek was pretty much the master of the four legged run. Scott could do it, but he usually liked to stick to two legs.

            As quickly as that name came to mind, the blinding rage took over, and he found himself veering off and heading back into the woods, this time on all fours. Perhaps if his brain had not decided to disengage at that moment, he’d have realized _hey, it IS a half shift thing for the hips!_ He ran himself ragged before finally stopping, his mind returning enough to know that the sun was rising and he should head back to pick up his shirt before going home.

            *******

            It was around noon when Stiles finally rolled out of bed for the day. His second attempt at sleep had been far more fruitful than the last, but the smell of whatever his dad was making for lunch woke him before he was ready.

            _Bacon, eggs, melted cheese, and was that toast? Ah, breakfast sandwiches._ Apparently today was going to be ‘Adventures with Super-Senses’ day. In addition to the smell of food, he could hear the little pops and sizzles from the pan, and the drip of freshly brewed coffee into the pot. Stiles was suddenly very grateful that the Sheriff never used the grinder that he got during Secret Santa at the work Christmas party last year, and just bought their coffee pre-ground. He could only imagine the hell that sound would be on his ears today.

            He took his meds, not sure if he even needed them anymore, and elected to take a shower before heading downstairs. After a night in the woods, he was downright offensive, and he wasn’t sure if it was just him that could smell it, or if his dad would, too.

            The spray of warm water against his skin was like needles for the first few moments while he adjusted, and then it felt all sorts of wonderful. He’d been covered in dirt before he got back into bed, and so it was a relief to shed all the grime. There may or may not have been a few lingering moments under the hot spray in which he contemplated jerking off, but being able to hear everything that was going on downstairs with his father was kind of a turn off.

            Fresh clothes were easier to find, as he dug through his drawers sniffing everything he’d shoved back in last time his dad asked him to clean up in his room. Naturally, the dirty clothes sat on the clean clothes, and dirtied them, too. But, the nose knows. Maybe now he wouldn’t find himself in third period suddenly noticing he’d failed to pick a clean enough shirt.

            The thing about eating breakfast, lunch, what have you at the table with the Sheriff is that now that the cat ( _wolf?_ ) was out of the bag, he wanted to talk. Stiles would have to be blind ( _Really, Stiles, blind? After that bastard…_ ) to not notice how freaked out his dad was about everything. After his fight or flight episode last night, the least he could do was try his hand at an explanation.

            “Sorry I ran off last night,” he started, deciding just to bite the bullet and stop staring everywhere but his father’s face. “I, uh, was having a bad dream.” He fixed his gaze on his plate while taking another bite of his food, which he didn’t even have the heart to complain to his dad about its nutritional value, or lack thereof, at the moment.

            The Sheriff sipped at his coffee, waiting for the continuation. He knew better than to push, especially when Stiles had this look on his face. It was that look of miserable determination, and he didn’t like it, but really, he didn’t like that his son had been running around with werewolves and fighting the supernatural for over a year without him knowing, eventually resulting in his abduction and forced change of species. He could put up with his son’s less pleasant feelings and moods to help him through this, even though he was still just beginning to understand it all himself.

            “I-  Deucalion- ” All the things that Stiles wanted and needed to say stuck in his throat, and he could feel some of his panic pushing against his control again. His father’s increased heart rate, and the sharp smell of fear that permeated the air prompted him to take a self-inventory, in which he discovered his claws were out, and he’d bet that his eyes were gold, too. He reined it back in, using his father to anchor himself, before trying it again.

            “That dream, I was back there.” He didn’t say any more of it out loud. They’d already had this discussion once, and it wasn’t pretty.

            _“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry!” Stiles wept, placing his head in his father’s lap. The human leaned forward, wrapping himself protectively around his son. “Shh, Genim,” He soothed, rubbing hands down the kid’s back, “It’s not your fault. It’s okay-”_

            _“It’s not okay!” His scream was muffled from where he was buried between his dad and the couch, his ugly sobs wracking the both of them. “I’m not human, dad, I’m…I’m dangerous.”_

It would be better if they didn’t rehash that discussion this afternoon. They agreed to disagree for the moment as to whether or not he was a danger to others (though much as he was loathe to admit it, the Sheriff was starting to understand his point), so long as Stiles knew that he was loved, and that wouldn’t change just because he’d been bitten against his will, and turned into a creature of the night.

            The Sheriff took their empty plates to the dishwasher, and topped off both of their coffees before taking his into the living room and sitting down in front of the television. He’d taken the day off to look after Stiles, who was supposedly home from school with the flu right now. As it turns out, Dr. Haberlind at the hospital remembered him and was more than willing to write him a doctor’s note for school, sending along his well wishes to Stiles through the Sheriff.

            Stiles, meanwhile, headed back upstairs to do what he does best: research. He wasn’t looking for a cure or anything like that. He didn’t need his humanity back. Sure, it sucked that it was so close to the full moon, and it sucks that it was that douche nozzle Deucalion, but he always saw the advantages of lycanthropy when Scott didn’t.

            Scott.

            Claws elongated, but he stopped where he was and breathed deeply, catching his dad’s scent all around him to bring him back.

            _That_ , his instinctual negative response to Scott was what he’d be examining, if he could just keep himself in check long enough to do it. He took the rest of the stairs two at a time and went straight to his room, parking himself at his desk. As he waited for his laptop to boot up, he took a piece of notebook paper and a pencil out of his backpack and began to jot down the exact responses he had to his mind wandering to Scott.

**_1._ _Claws_ **   
**_2._ _Eyes? Maybe?_ **   
**_3._ _Fangs_ **   
**_4._ _Barely controllable rage_**   
**_a._ _Apparently dad is my anchor._**   
**_b._ _I’m awesome, by the way.  
_ _5._ _Tunnel vision_**

Okay, so basically, when he started thinking about Scott, and he wasn’t making the conscious effort not to wolf out, he wolfed out. The question that really needed to be answered is ‘why’? They’d been best friends for years. They’ve been through so much together that it’s kind of insane that Stiles hasn’t died yet. Maybe…

It couldn’t be that. Scott…he meant well. It wasn’t his fault that he has so much to do! So what if he bailed on some plans? So what if he was more concerned for Allison most of the time instead of him? So what if it took him two hours to come and…

Despite him efforts, thinking more and more about it just made him pissed. Apparently his wolf side doesn’t take too kindly to the thought of Scott abandoning him, his pack. Once upon a time, it might have been Scott he’d ask to be his alpha, now that he’s got that whole ‘true alpha’ thing going on. But, from day one, he understood the importance of trust between an alpha and his betas. If Stiles couldn’t trust that Scott would be there when he needed him to be, how could he be his beta?

            Grumbling to himself, he pushed away from the desk, deciding himself done with the research for today. He didn’t need the internet to tell him his best friend had left him long ago. What he needed now was a trip to see Derek. By default, he was Stiles’ other option for alpha, but something in him felt a strange sort of contentment when he thought about the man. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Derek’s saved him so many times over.

Now _there_ was a man he could call Alpha.

            *******

            Stiles knew the trick to getting into the loft without setting off the alarm, so he decided to make it another training exercise. If Derek was attentive, he should smell Stiles before he made it all the way up, but if Stiles was successful in what he was about to try, he might not hear him. Heartbeats and breaths were inevitable, but he was focusing on his calm anyways, so it shouldn’t be too loud. His footfalls were light, stepping gingerly to avoid noise.

            And when he stepped inside, Derek was there, watching him with some strange mix of hurt and confusion. He could smell two other scents besides his and Derek’s, so they were probably Cora and Peter’s. They were also not so strong, so he figured they must not be fresh. Nothing he was hearing told him there was anyone else in the loft, so he took a few more steps forward, respectfully not looking his (hopefully) soon-to-be-Alpha in the eye.

            “What happened, Stiles,” Derek asked, barely above a whisper. It didn’t matter. To Stiles, it was loud, and he heard little variations in the man’s voice he’d never heard before. It was more likely he just couldn’t hear it, and not that it hadn’t been there from the start.

            “Deucalion.” Stiles breathed, attempting to steady himself to tell the story again. “He and his pack nabbed me while I was leaving Lydia’s house, two nights ago.”

            The silence between them was immeasurable, and Stiles began to ramble.

            “I think he thought, ‘what would piss Derek and Scott off the most? I know, let’s take the scrawny human! And while we’re at it, I think I’m gonna bite him, too!’ But, you know, I don’t think he really thought that through because, _hello_ , they’re a pack of alphas! They don’t need a beta, and they really don’t need one who will be as much of a pain in the ass as me, and-”

            “Stiles,” Derek didn’t even need to shout to get his attention. Maybe that meant somewhere inside him he’d already accepted Derek as alpha?

            Right. He was here for a reason.

            He took a few nerve-wracking steps forward before dropping to his knees, making eye contact for the briefest of moments before dropping his gaze. It wasn’t as hard as he would have thought, rolling his head to the side to expose his neck. It was an act of submission, which didn’t come naturally for human Stiles, but again, it was possible that his new wolf instincts knew better.

            Clearly Derek wasn’t expecting this, or he wouldn’t have drawn such a shaky breath at the sight. Still, Stiles held his place, and knew he did good when Derek bent down in front of him, rubbing his face against the teen’s bared skin. He nipped, causing Stiles a brief moment of panic before surprising himself with a pleased grumble deep in his chest. He knew Derek would take care of him now.

            *******

            The next night found Stiles curled into his father’s side on the couch, watching hilariously inaccurate werewolf movies for shits and giggles. And seriously? Michael J. Fox’s lycanthropic self was a fugly, furry mess. He almost looked more like he belonged in a Geico commercial…or standing next to a yeti. Stiles couldn’t help but picture Peter in his place during the basketball match scenes.

            Some of his negative feelings towards Peter had subsided since becoming pack. While a part of him still didn’t trust the man implicitly and probably never would, the creep factor went away, and Stiles even started picking out some of his behaviors that, through the eyes of a wolf, made sense. Some of them were the same behaviors and body language that Derek exhibited, and so he was pretty sure it had to do with their ( _our?_ ) more primal sides.

            Cora seemed to like him well enough, now that he and her brother were more on the same page about everything. It must have been off putting to have a spastic human in the house, giving instructions to an alpha. Not that Stiles would be easily broken of that habit, but it was what it was. At least as a werewolf, in her eyes, it wasn’t so out of his place to make suggestions.

            Isaac was at the loft when Stiles had swung by earlier. He was getting the last of his stuff. He wasn’t sure, but Stiles suspected by the way he and Derek weren’t looking at each other that Isaac had made the final break from his pack, electing instead to join Scott’s.

            He clenched his palms, but at least the reaction was much more contained this time. That moment was the first time that Isaac had stopped to look at him, and he supposed that Isaac had sniffed the air and figured out what had happened to him, and how very much he still smelt of Derek from the day before. He received a firm pat on the shoulder as the other teen left, and it felt like a truce. The two of them weren’t pack, but they both knew they weren’t fighting for Scott’s attention anymore.

            So, it was him, and Derek, and Peter and Cora, and it was alright. He worked on the school work Cora brought back for him at the large table by the window, and Cora, he suspected, was doing her own homework at the other end.

            After scenting him ( _which, still a little weird, but it’s a werewolf thing, whatever_ ), Peter had left, citing work that needed to be done at his apartment. Derek settled on his bed with a book, and the turning of pages mingled with the clicking of keys, layered over all the noises from outside the loft. What once would have been obnoxious silence he would have been compelled to fill was actually plenty loud.

            After a while, when Stiles had finished the surprisingly minimal amount of schoolwork he would be turning in tomorrow, the three of them went for a run together, and it was even more relaxing than it had been the night before.

            Even with alphas around, Derek had planned for them to go out on Stiles’ first full moon, provided he could retain his control, and so Derek showed him the route they’d be taking. He was somewhat exhausted by the end, but he knew that tomorrow it would feel like nothing. After that, his alpha encouraged him to go home and spend some time with his father, since he wouldn’t see him at all the next day, and that’s how he ended up here, on the couch, laughing at Michael J. Fox.

            It was nice, leaning into his father like this. There scents were mingling, marking the Sheriff as pack, and it was easier for the both of them to believe that this sudden surge of tactility was because of the bite, and had absolutely nothing to do with how deprived of human contact they had both been before now.

            *******

            Wednesday he woke up grumpy. Reason number one: school. Much as he loved to learn, the school system was messed up, and nothing they had to offer was really worth his time. He wasn’t engaged by it. Lydia wasn’t really, either, but she compensated by doing EVERYTHING, and doing it all in depth. Stiles, meanwhile, bullshitted his way through the more laughable assignments. Still, he did enough to warrant his 4.1 GPA, even with the number of supernatural related absences he had.

            Which brings him to…Reason number two: his wolfy time of the month. It was like having every one of his super senses turned up a few notches, and made it hard for him to focus on any one thing. Or, harder, he supposed. It was still too early to really know if his ADHD was still a thing. At least he still knew some tricks for handling it.

            The first thing he did after accidentally smashing his alarm clock to bits was to take his Adderall. If he took two, no one was around to be able to notice. By the smell of it, his father had already started up the coffee, so he proceeded to the bathroom to take a piss and a shower, and brush his teeth. Almost regretting his decision not to take his clothes into the bathroom, Stiles made his way back to his bedroom, where Derek was sitting on the edge of his bed.

            “Should I feign shock and say ‘Oh my GOD’ for old times’ sake?” His alpha smiled, and pulled the boy down to the bed with him, situating his front to Stiles’ back. The towel, which had been slung low on his waist, was now on the floor, and he didn’t miss it much…not with the way Derek’s hand was splayed on his hip.

            _Dammit! I should have sucked it up and jerked off in the shower!_

            Little Stiles was definitely not as reluctant as he to react to this strange, but not entirely unappreciated, turn of events. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed Derek before…he just figured that the man was off the market, and, you know, not interested in guys to begin with. Were he still operating under human senses, he might be thinking the whole cuddle thing was just a werewolf thing, which, in most cases it was, but he could smell that it was mutual.

            _How the hell do I know what a boner smells like? Is it just the pheromones I’m smelling or something? Question still stands: how do I recognize that scent?_

            “Stiles,” Derek warned, gently, “Stop thinking.  I’m just transferring as much of my scent on to you before you go to school as I can. It’ll help you keep control.”

            Derek slid back for a moment, and returned just as naked as Stiles was before pulling him in tightly. _And, oh, hey, that really is a boner._

His alpha nipped playfully at his neck before rubbing his face in, taking his time to put his scent right where Stiles would be best able to smell it. One after the other, he offered his wrists for the same treatment, and he took it all in stride. It made sense that they do this.

            Derek finished scenting him shortly after, moving away to redress himself. Stiles, meanwhile, still needed to dress the first time. His mint green pants were towards the top of the pile of his dresser draw, and as he’d sucked it up and did all his laundry yesterday, clean-ish or dirty, they smelled of the soap, just like everything else. They called to him, though. Just the right amount of snug in the legs to show off his assets while roomy in the crotch and waistband made them the ideal cross between comfort clothes and acceptable-for-school clothes. His Beatles shirt didn’t exactly match, but it was one of the softer things he had to wear, and so he flung it on his bed with the jeans. Next up, those boxer brief things. He wasn’t really sure what they were called, specifically, but Lydia took a picture of them in the store and told him to pick up a few. She made it clear that if he ever wore the superhero briefs his underwear drawer was full of to another one of their sleepovers (totally platonic sleepovers, which he was pretty okay with these days), she would come by his house, steal them from his drawer, and burn them. Whatever these were, they were kind of like what girls would call boy-shorts, but they were still for guys. They were cut to fit snugly, didn’t go down on his legs for the most part, and didn’t even have thick elastic on the top! The fabric was actually softer, though, so he got used to them, and begrudgingly thanked her at the next sleepover.

            Derek was fully dressed by the time Stiles had on his…whatever the hell undergarment, and had slipped out the window without another word. He slipped his pants on, zipping and buttoning as he went over to shut the window. That done, he stepped back across the hall to put on his deodorant. He thought better of spraying himself down with axe, though, since doing so would likely cover up most of Derek’s scent. _Heh, eau de werewolf._

            Shirt, shoes, coffee, a slice of the banana nut bread their elderly neighbor with the baking hobby had brought over yesterday, and Stiles was headed out to his jeep, determined that he wouldn’t let his first day back to school after his life was once again turned upside down get the better of him. Rather than allowing himself to be bombarded by all the road noise as he navigated his jeep to the back roads, he focused on physical sensations, like the texture of his steering wheel, and the rumble of the engine vibrating through him; somehow it managed to be soothing.

            He sang along to Icona Pop as he felt the wind rushing in from his open windows caressing his cheek, bringing with it the scents of all the trees he drove past. Sure, it was the long way to school, but the distinct lack of traffic on this route made him feel more at ease. When the song was over, he switched to the local alternative station in time to catch the last half of a song by The Killers that never got much airtime. He had to remember later that he wanted to get this song on his computer.

            All too soon he found himself turning back onto the main road, and into the school parking lot. According to the time on his cell phone, he still had a half hour till classes, so he took the closest spot he could find to the main entrance and waited for the song to be over before he turned off his vehicle.

            It wasn’t until he was at his locker, putting away the books he had from last Friday’s homework and taking the one he’d need for first period, that he caught the scent of Scott. He didn’t startle, nor did he make it obvious that he had been aware of any change. Stiles just stood there, backpack in hand, focusing on his breathing, and thinking of his dad. In about a minute, Scott would know, and regardless of his ambivalent feelings toward the alpha, in another thirty, he’d either be answering a million questions, or stopping Scott from going to rip every alpha in town a new one, starting with Derek. He couldn’t afford to run away from this. Not when Scott doesn’t know that there’s been a shift in their relationship. One that, in time, could hopefully be worked past. He really didn’t want to lose his best friend forever because of this.

            That thought was of some consolation; his logic was kicking in, helping him tether down his highly emotional response. He stood there resigned as he listened to the pace of Scott’s footsteps hasten in his direction. If he hadn’t already noticed the change in how Stiles smelled, or Derek’s scent on his skin, he’d be coming over to see if Stiles was okay, since his father was the one to finally respond to all of his phone calls, never actually lying, but allowing Scott to think that Stiles had been sick. He’d want to hear it from the man himself that he was okay.

            When Scott put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, he jerked back, causing the alpha to look at him with an expression of mixed concern and hurt. Clearly, he hadn’t caught the were!Stiles scent yet, but the way his nose twitched told him that he’d register Derek smell in 3, 2, 1-

            “Uh, Stiles?” Scott shuffled, signaling his immense discomfort. “You know, I’m fully okay with you liking guys and stuff, but did it really have to be Derek?”

            Faster than he could register that he’d moved, Stiles’ right fist had collided with Scott’s face with a satisfying crack. Sure, he broke a knuckle or two, but he’s pretty sure he also broke Scott’s jaw. Except now, the look on his face had gone from shock to sorrow within a few seconds, and while his wolf preened, his human heart writhed in pain. Thus is the dual nature of the lycanthrope and Scott understood in moments. He probably didn’t realize that Stiles and Derek weren’t really a thing, but it didn’t matter. Stiles was starting to realize that he wanted it, and Derek might actually be receptive to the idea. What Scott knew was that Stiles was like him now, and if the look on his face was any indication, it also wasn’t his choice. And with how much Stiles was drenched in Derek’s scent, the beta didn’t need him to step up and be his alpha.

            He warily squeezed his best friend’s shoulder again before bowing out gracefully. This was neither the time nor the place to talk about everything. Everything, of course, including the fact that Stiles had gone to Derek before him. But Scott knew that it would be hard enough for Stiles without an argument right now, on the day of the full moon. 


End file.
